


The Bodyguard

by PerpetualSpinster



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Assault, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerpetualSpinster/pseuds/PerpetualSpinster
Summary: The harassment you face one night out leads to a scuffle out on the street.  With some help from the club security, you give some trust over to recover from the danger that had almost cost you so much.
Relationships: Jason Momoa/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	The Bodyguard

His fingers dig into your arm painfully as you try to release yourself from the stranger’s grasp.

“Fuck off and let go of me!” you yell at him as loud as you can but the club’s music drowns your voice out from others around you being able to hear your distress. 

When he takes you past security up front, he gives them a smile that at first won you over.

“Can you believe chicks these days? Wanna party all night long when their kid is up waiting for them. Let’s go hun!” The brawny security guard looks from him to you suspiciously but lets you both pass without incident. Out on the street, you kick him in the knee, finally getting freedom as he bounces off rubbing his bruised joint.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouts at you with anger in his eyes. 

You root around your clutch for your phone, shaking to open it up. “I’m not the one with the problem. I know you put something in my drink. I’m not stupid!”

This catches the attention of the security guard you passed in front of the club.

“Hey Carlos, come work the door, I have a disturbance to check out.” He walks up to your side. “Is he causing your problems, ma’am?”

You hold your phone to your ear waiting in 911 to pick up. “Yes! He is a fucking pervert who wants to fuck unconcious women!”

The guy looks nervous;y around him. “Hey, shut up! I don’t even know you for you to accuse me-”

“He bought me a drink and thought I wasn’t looking but something was floating in it when I almost took a sip. I gave it to the bartender and had them call the cops. Fuckface can’t stir, stupid bitch!”

The guy walks up to you pointing at your face. “You’re gonna quit fucking talking to me like that or-”

The security guard, lays out a long strong arm in front of you, cutting him off. “You wanna try that with me first man?”

He looks up at security with annoyance. “I’m not talking to you, George of the Jungle, I’m talking to this b-”

Just as 911 began to ask what was your emergency, security had him by his throat, walking him away from you.

“You talk a lot for a little guy. And I don’t have a lot of patience for talk. So since my shift is ending soon, I’d like to end it without incident. Do you wanna create one?”

Security drops him to the ground to writhe like a slug on salt. 

You hang up on 911 and run up on the pervert, kicking him for good measure. “How you like not breathing when you want to BITCH! You’re a damn piece of shit, stay down!”

Security pulls you back gently but you rear back from his touch, causing him to retreat.

“I’m on your side. But you can’t beat his ass here, plus cops are on the way.”

On cue, you hear the whir of sirens far off, but getting louder by the second. 

“Shit! I can’t get a ride in time before the cops get here.”

Security looks back at his buddy Carlos working the door and gives him a thumbs up, which he returns.

He looks back at you tentatively. “Feel free to say no but-”

“Can you give me a ride? Just to get me out of here before the cops get here.”

He blinks a couple times taken aback but mutters in agreement. You turn back to the pervert and kick him once more before running off ahead.

“Hey! My truck’s around back!” he yells after you.

Riding passenger to his pick up you sit closest to the window as possible, nearly facing him. He’s clearly unnerved as he drives, gripping the steering wheel tight. You notice the geometric tattoo poking from under his leather moto sleeve, snapshotting it in your memory. Brownish hair with some scarce light pieces grown naturally throughout. You lean over slightly and notice a scar in his brow that is a unique identifier-

“Could you stop looking at me like that?” he asks coarsely. 

You squint at him suspiciously. “After the night I’ve had? It’s just a precaution.”

“You know where I work, they know me and that I’m with you. You have a paper trail, I wouldn’t risk shit like that dickhead back there.”

You raise your chin defensively. “So if I didn’t have a paper trail, you would consider it?”

“What?!” he looks at you incredulously.

You pop a finger in his face. “So you can take me home and just do whatever! They say the most likely serial killers are the good looking ones.”

He rolls his eyes. “A backhanded compliment, thanks. And you haven’t told me where you live yet. I’ve been driving for 15 minutes and you refuse to give it to me.”

You turn to face the road now. “I don’t want you to know where I live.”

“Trust me, I’d rather not either, but I’m trying to be nice here.”

“How about I go to yours, just for the night?”

You feel the truck jerk off the side of the road as he parks it abruptly. He turns to you, glaring with fire in his eyes. “You can catch a cab right here, I don’t have time for this.”

“No wait! I don’t mean like that! I just can’t go home! Please!” you say pleading with him.

“What do you mean you can’t?” he asks.

You fall back into your seat pitifully. “I dropped my keys back in the club…swinging my purse at the guy who spike my drink. I can’t call for a replacement until the morning…”

Security leans back, looking toward out his window you can’t read his expression but his body read tired as his broad shoulders melted down from their defensive mode.

He starts the truck back up. “Fine, but daylight is in four hours: you call a cab and you’re out of there.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks! I won’t impose on a thing. What’s your name by the way?”

He sits there quietly, streetlights rolling over his face ominously. “You need that for your police report?”

“Well maybe…”

“Come on!”

“No I mean with the guy spiking drinks back there, not you and what you’re possibly capable of but I’m not accusing you.”

“Jason,” he says. You share yours with a handshake.

You enter his apartment hesitantly. It has a rustic feel with a lot of old metal works decorations and natural wood furniture.

“You live alone?” you ask.

“Yes, so you can have the couch. Do you need anything before I break myself down for the night?”

You plop on the couch, taking off your shoes. “Got any bottled water?”

“Plastic is ruining the environment and its inhabitants.” He digs into the fridge and hands you a can. “Aluminum is much more sustainable.”

You open the can and take a sip. “Thanks but isn’t plastic recyclable?”

“Not nearly as much as aluminum. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He walks off to the back room as you settle into the sofa sipping your water. Your phone beeps warning you that it needs recharging. Your eyes catch a vacant cord in a corner outlet. Luckily it fits your phone as it beeps happily.

Sitting back down you finish your water and look around your surroundings. 

“No TV?” you say, judging his choices. He probably has a big ego to match his huge stature.

You look through your phone a little bit to mindlessly scroll social media until you feel an urge to pee. Jason hasn’t come out of his room, he might be asleep. Not wanting to wake him, you tiptoe to find which door most likely led to the bathroom, turning a promising knob. 

Opening the door, your nostrils are hit with a sweet smell of bath oils and the sight of a man reading in his bubble bath with pink scrunchies catches you off guard.

“What are you doing?!” he howls.

You can barely compute as you slowly smile at the picture in front of you. “Your pigtails are the cutest!”

“Get out!” he growls, adjusting the bubbles to ensure he is at least modest in front of you. You close the door and giggle to yourself until you remember your main goal.

“I’m sorry, but I have to pee!” You knock on the door so he knows you’re serious but you’re glad there’s no glass because you are still clearly amused. A big man in a bubble bath is just too rich.

“Give me a minute!” he says. You hear water sloshing around and silence until the door opens on you. Your face lands on his soft pink tshirt covering his firm chest. 

“It’s all you,” he says in a monotone, letting you by as he made his way to his kitchen. 

When you come back out, he is sitting with beer, looking up at you. “Want one?”

You shake your head. “I had enough to drink today.”

He takes a healthy glug from the stein. “Well, I haven’t started yet.” 

You sit across from him, feeling awkward. He looks at you curiously. “So what happened with that guy anyway?”

“At the club? Just same old stuff. Guy says hi, gives a compliment, and offers a drink. He was a great conversationalist, just rattling on about what he does and how beautiful I am but then he tried to say he knew the owner and pointed him out to me. I looked behind me but I didn’t know what he looked like, so when I turned back to ask, he looked like he just moved and was posed unnaturally. I asked him what the owner looked like but he brushed off my question to raise his glass up with mine, cheersing to a good night, but this film was on top of my drink and all hell broke loose.”

“Fuck that scum,” he says, taking another drink.

“Exactly. So I hand it to the bartender and told them to save it and call 911. He may not have heard me but when the bartender didn’t dump it, he got pissed, grabbing my arm asking what I said.”

“Where was he taking you?” Jason asks.

You shrug. “I don’t even want to think about it, I have no idea but I wasn’t going to go no way. Thanks for stepping in when you did.”

Jason wipes his beard of the excess beer. “I’m just glad you spoke up and got attention on him. If I wasn’t on the clock, that guy would’ve been in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.”

You think back to the moment, getting dragged and the pain in your arm. You lift your arm and see some purpling form on your bicep and Jason notices.

“Let me get ice for that.” He makes an ice bag with a dishrag and loads it up with cubes. You lay your arm down on the table for him to place the ice on your inner arm.

“Hold it there. Does it still hurt?”

You shake your head. “But I’m sure in the morning it will.”

“Yeah that’s gonna be nasty, but the ice will lessen it.”

“Thanks again, for the help.”

“Please don’t mention it. I just wish there were less dipshits on the street messing unsuspecting people.”

You nod, and feel a yawn coming on. “I think it’s about time I try to catch some Zs. I have, what, 3 hours left?”

Jason puts his stein in the sink. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t work until night again so just rest. I was high strung back there when I said that.” 

“I get it, but really, I’ll be out on time.” You get up, adjusting your dress and head for the couch.

“Do you want a shirt and shorts or something? You’ll be swimming in it but it has to be more comfortable than your night look.”

You mull it over. “Uh, a tshirt would be good.”

Jason goes back to his bedroom for a minute,coming out with a black Slayer tee. 

He tells you good night, closing his bedroom door as you peel off the hot pink bandage dress that peels slowly off your body like a second skin. You feel like a new woman slipping on the tshirt, fitting you perfectly loose for comfort, smelling Jason’s musk embedded in its threads. You lay out on the couch with the ice under your arm as sleep swept you away.

—

You wake up slowly to the smell of food wafting in the air. You stretch, inhaling the heavenly smell, almost forgetting until you opened your eyes that the place you slept was not your own.

You wince at the awareness of your arm as you sit up and see your burly friend over the stove, 

“Good morning! Breakfast is about ready,” he says in a jovial manner. You get up and take your phone off the charger, reading the time as 11:47 am.

“Shit! I overslept!” you say, gathering your dress and shoes. “I’ll give this shirt back. I need it for the ride back to my place.”

Jason looks disappointed as he lays out some eggs on a plate. “No, I said you didn’t have to worry about that! You need food, come on, eat.”

He sits down, shoveling a forkful into his mouth waving you over. 

“It does…smell great.” He smiles, handing you a plate to help yourself to eggs, sausage and toast.

“I didn’t get this size by skipping meals, little lady. And breakfast is best after a night out.”

You reach over for a piece of toast but the ache of your arm holds you back. Jason takes your wrist gently, rolling up the shirt sleeve to study your bruise. 

“Yeah, they look worse as they get better.” He gives it a gentle rub before returning to his plate. “So you survived the night?”

“Yeah, that is a good couch.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

You swallow some juice, taking a couple bites of egg. “Sorry again for imposing. I’ll blame my previous drink on that boldness. I don’t do this often.”

He shrugs. “I don’t bring strange women home after work either, just so you know.”

You smile. “Well luckily I’m not strange.”

His eyes widen as he locks his jaw.

“You think I’m strange?!”

He lifts his juice glass. “I meant that I don’t shit where I sleep. I respect boundaries.”

You feel slightly disappointed with this information. “Oh, well thank you. I am glad I got a glimpse of the man behind the leather and toughness. Bubbles and pigtails, I just can’t!”

“And I’m not apologizing for it lady, so tough shit! A man can enjoy the finer things in life.”

“You bet your ass you can. You earned it.”

You fill up no breakfast enough to get you going and get ready to go.

“I’m ordering my car now…coming in 2 minutes.” 

Jason stands at his front door with you, hands dug in his black and white horizontal striped pants. “Ok, I’ll just see you off.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve already done a lot,” you assure him.

Jason shakes his head. “I want to.”

Silence passes through the two of you as you wait. Seeing him in the daylight for the first time, he doesn’t look so serial killer scary as you once thought. His wavy brown hair looks heavenly and less wild man. Even the scar above his eye has character. 

“How’d you get that?” You point at his face.

“What?” he asks, rubbing his face. “Is there some egg on my face?”

“No, here.” You step up to him and reach his brow carefully. “Right there.”

The softness of his brow welcomed your touch as you lightly stroked the area. Jason’s eyes glisten innocently at you, never once flinching under your hand. He doesn’t say anything, and you’re glad. You willed him in your mind to take hold of your hips and pull you to him-

Beep Beep

Your notification ring tolls that your ride has arrived. You look at your phone and into the parking lot. 

“I guess that’s my cue,” you say in a monotone, walking off slowly.

“Hey wait!” he calls after you. 

You turn to him quickly. “Yeah?”

His mouth hangs on some words he wants to say but blurts out, “Make sure to keep some ice on that arm.”

You nod as your heart falls. 

“And if you happen to collect numbers, any chance you would want mine?”

You bite your lip running up to him to slap his arm. “You think you are so sly, don’t you?”

“Like the Family Stone. And I need to contact you for my shirt back, so don’t think you’re getting away that easy.”


End file.
